


The moon will rise again

by That_brunette_in_red



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Comfort, Jon loves Martin, M/M, Martin Blackwood is sassy, Martin loves Jon, Mild Gore, Quiet Angst, Short One Shot, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 5, gore mention, the magnus archives - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:26:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29740797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_brunette_in_red/pseuds/That_brunette_in_red
Summary: The world is ending and all Martin wants is light in the endless darkness.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The moon will rise again

"Jon?"

"Hmm?"

The sound of shuffling as Martin readjusted how he sat, and a brief silence. Jon kept his eyes focused on the sky.

"What are you... going to miss? When all this is over?"

Jon's dark eyes strayed from the unblinking one in the sky, bloodshot, consuming, then met Martin's own gentle brown: bright, and kind.

"What do you mean, when all this is over?" Jon knew, Martin _knew_ he knew without even daring to look inside his head. When it ended with either one or both of them dead, Jon as the sacrificial lamb or, failing that, the pair of them wandering the wastelands aimlessly amidst horrors and nightmares until they ceased to exist. The question fell from Jon's lips as an excuse, a not-so-subtle _do we have to talk about this now, Martin?_

"You _know_ what I mean." Martin didn't bother suggesting _when_ they defeated the great evils, not now, not when there was so much uncertainty that the idea of hope seemed more a cruelty than kindness. Jon sighed, tilted his head as he considered his words -- Martin watched the purse of his lips as he thought. 

"What will you miss?" Jon couldn't voice what he truly wanted to say, but apparently directing the question back at Martin was the right call because he again adjusted on the hard ground, stared up at the sky where the moon _should have been._

"I'm going to miss... quiet nights. I already miss seeing the moon," he admitted, cheek flushing with brief embarrassment, and Jon smiled at the sight and suddenly they were _home:_ a home they never got to build, but only got a taste of in a goddamn safe house surrounded by terrors. 

"Yes," he said, softly, instead of his thoughts. "Yeah, I miss it too." He gave him a quick look. "You never mentioned you liked the nighttime."

"Wasn't important." Still Martin's gaze remained on the eye -- Jon watched him clench his jaw. "Not that it matters now, anyway," he added, too brightly. "But there was always a... peace that came with it? sometimes when Mum was asleep I'd just... go for a walk and look at the moon."

Jon smiled at the imagery. Breath misting in the dark, crisp air, weary but content walking the damp streets of London, moonlight so bright it guides his way down street after street and Martin is at peace with himself, for a moment. "That sounds nice." A thought occurred to him, then, he frowned and twisted to face Martin. "Early when we met, Tim's birthday... we walked home together after the pub."

 _"Yes,_ we did," Martin agreed, "and it was the most uncomfortably awkward seven miles I've ever spent with someone."

Jon grimaced, but Martin was still smiling, clearly amused, so he smiled back. "Ah. Sorry." The air was cold, but the night was surprisingly quiet. Well, not that was a concept that existed anymore, in this new world between waking and literal hellish nightmares: it was dark indeed and Jon could almost picture them both walking amidst the moon and stars, safe, happy even. "If I could do it over again, I would."

Martin grinned, a tired thing, and Jon moved closer to him and took his hands within his own small, scarred hands-- surprised at himself, but then again, he was his _boyfriend,_ he was allowed to show affection now in a way he hadn't been able to bring himself to do earlier. "Nah, you wouldn't," Martin teased, "it was misty and cold, you were _miserable!"_

"Was not," Jon retorted with a grin of his own, "I was just... intimidated."

 _"I_ intimidated you."

"While my first thought of you might have been something a little..," He made a face, waved his free hand as if to enunciate his point, and Martin rolled his eyes fondly. "I still thought you were adorable. So, uh, intimidating."

"Charming," came the sarcastic reply. 

"I do try."

A steady silence settled over them; Martin sat absent-mindedly smoothing his thumbs over Jon's ragged knuckles, and he wasn't sure who he supposed he was soothing. Jon just looked at him as if he would never see him again, which remained a real threat he wouldn't dare think too hard upon, as if dwelling on it would will it into reality. Anything was possible now. 

"I'm going to miss you," Martin finally admitted, in a tone so resigned Jon was sure he had been thinking it for a while. His heart twisted painfully -- the night remained more or less silent. He thought maybe someone was screaming, in the distance, or it could have been an echo of the fear still leeching into the air around them. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on his once again silent partner. 

"Martin -- "

"There's only one way this is going to _end,_ Jon," he interrupted, frustrated at their situation, at himself. "No matter what, you're -- we're not going to be the same coming out if this."

"If we do," Jon relented, and felt Martin's gentle grip tighten, ever so slightly. "I'm going to miss you too."

"Yeah." Martin met his inquisitive stare. "I... wish I'd told you how I felt sooner, wish we'd had more time, but... that's pointless, isn't it? To wish for something like that."

"No, I... I know, Martin." That guilt and hurt was twisting around his gut, crawling up into his chest, thick and dark, up his throat until it physically hurt and he cleared it. He looked down, squeezed Martin's hands tighter and wished.

The calm was broken by a hollow scream in the distance, this one unmistakable as something real and whole and horrible. Jon shuddered at the wave of delight the eye clearly was awash with. "Jon?"

"It, um... "

"What, already?"

"There is... a lot of fear, Martin. Here, for some reason, I-I don't know, but I should -- "

"Alright," Martin sighed, pushing himself to his feet. "I'll just, uh, go examine this clearly haunted tree then. Don't... take too long, okay?"

"Martin, be -- "

"Safe, yeah, yeah." With that dismissal Martin was moving again, thankfully easily spotted by the pale yellow sweater he had packed and haphazardly thrown over himself. 

Another moment, the ringing of static and a strong wave of sudden nausea and dizziness. Jon scrambled for the tape recorder, unsurprised to find it was already on -- no doubt catching their heart to heart, as if their lives were some twisted from of torturous _entertainment._ With a steadying sigh, Jon began to speak. 

////

Martin focused on the twisted, warped wood instead of the steady drone of Jon's monotone voice, generally pleasant, but... not like this, not drained of all vitality and energy and _life._

"'Make sure not to get caught in any spider's webs, Martin,'" he mimicked, adopting Jon's deep tone, as if to make himself feel better. More at home, anyway. "'The dark is a dangerous place for the thief of happiness which we call the night,'" he continued, peering at the dark oozing from between the wood. In the shadows it looked like... meat, almost? Limbs that spiralled into the sky, cracking and splintering off into tapered, sharp branches. A shredded mass of blackened sap bleeding through peeling cracks of a soft, rotting carcass that stank, and Martin frowned.

"Don't touch anything," Jon's voice carried through the air towards him. A glance over his shoulder proved that Jon was still buried in his work and Martin frowned again, wishing he could, you know, _not_ do that -- know everything, just for a little while. His face softened, remembering once again the effect it was having on him, and sorely wished for a time long since passed. He remembered passing him teas every morning which at first he begrudgingly accepted, then gratefully, and finally with a shy smile and quiet _thank you, Martin._ Jon checking in on him, _I know being stuck in the archives is less than ideal, Martin, but we'll make sure you're safe here,_ and quick glances Jon didn't seem keen on Martin seeing. 

He sat and thought about that, just a moment or two, the idea of seeing and being truly seen chasing each other around his head. Jon hadn't seen him at first, not really, but he _saw_ him now, everything, and more. Saw the stars reflected in his eyes on that long walk from the pub on Tim's birthday, felt the pull of connection -- just a spark still, back then -- when Martin smiled meekly at him and offered his coat in the cold and damp, and Jon had accepted it. Saw the moon light their path and continue to do so as they followed each other into the cold and dark, alone together. 

Even now. 

Martin blinked back into the present to watch the blood flow silently from the gashed tree, and tried not to think too hard of it as a person when its eyes blinked back at him. 

////

"All done then? Jon?" No answer but silence, and Martin sighed. "Where are you?" 

Jon clicked the recorder off with a wearied finality, rubbing a hand over his cheek. "Here, Martin." He pushed himself from the ground, strangely guilty, empty, yet satisfied -- fulfilled. He hated it. Martin's warm hand fell to his shoulder, either to brush off the dirt he'd spotted there or to try and offer comfort -- Jon didn't know. Either way it did him little good, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

Martin looked towards the sky once again, as if pleasing the eye now would grant them the moon, and wasn't surprised to see the eye blinking back at him, knowingly. "Come on. Ready to keep moving?"

Jon smiled at him, tilted his head and within seconds he knew their next move. He nodded his response, squeezing his hand as they continued their path through darkness and into an unending night. "Stay close to me, alright?"

"I will."

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written JonMartin before but I wanted to after finally catching up on all 197 episodes! I love them your honour


End file.
